Dance with the Enemy (The Enemy Series)

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘No. No more,’ Modena garbled. ‘Please. Don’t let him hurt me anymore.’

  Modena had mused about the fact that his captors were being so brazen about referring to Selim. None of the others had shown their faces or revealed their names. So why Selim? Modena could merely guess that it was because Selim was the only one who felt he had nothing to lose. The whole world already knew who and what he was. Modena knew that his capture was a major coup for Selim’s so-called cause. And maybe there was something else too. They were banking on Selim’s presence alone terrifying Modena into giving them the information they craved.

  And Modena had to admit, if that was their plan, it was working.

  A creaking noise came from behind the slight man. It took Modena a few seconds to process what it was. His heart had already started to pound when he realised that someone was coming in through the door. He pulled up his head and opened his eyes as much as the swelling would allow. It took a few more seconds for him to focus on the figure standing in the doorway, although he could already tell by the bulk of the man who it was. In a strange way, he felt a wave of relief. It wasn’t Selim at least.

  ‘Hello, Frank,’ the big man bellowed. ‘It’s my turn now. Say bye-bye to Mr Nice Guy.’

  As the big man moved further into the room, Modena spotted Selim coming in behind him. Modena’s eyes met his and Selim gave him an evil smile.

  Modena began moaning, his head shaking.

  ‘No. No. No. Please, no more. Please!’

  ‘This is it, Frank,’ the slight man said. ‘Please, just tell me. I’ll make them go away, but you have to tell me!’

  ‘Okay! Please, just … no more.’

  ‘Wait!’ the little man shouted. He held up his hand to the others, who stopped in their tracks. ‘Just wait a second. Frank, what did you say? Talk to me?’

  ‘I said okay,’ Modena said. ‘I can help you.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ the big man spat. ‘I don’t effing believe it. I knew he had it. The little shit’s been playing us all this time. Stringing us along, hoping he’d get rescued or something. What a hero, Frank. Well, don’t you worry, there’s still plenty of time for us to have some more fun with you.’

  ‘I wasn’t lying,’ Modena pleaded. He panted and wheezed, trying to get his words out. ‘I don’t have the information you want. But … but I think I can get it.’

  ‘Tell us how, Frank,’ the slight man beamed. ‘Just tell us how.’

  Chapter 34

  8th October

  He tried to move toward her, but his body wouldn’t react. It was like his feet were in quick sand. The more he struggled, the less he could move. The man held the knife high and then thrust it down into her chest. There was a sickening sound as the blade penetrated her flesh, but nothing more than a whimper escaped her lips.

  She turned her head.

  Grainger.

  Those pleading eyes. Begging for it to stop. Begging for Logan to help.

  He tried to reach out to her, but he couldn’t move. His arms were numb and lifeless.

  The man turned to him. Lorik. A grin on his face. His eyes red with rage. He drove the knife down into her body again and again, moaning as he did so, louder and louder.

  Logan tried with all his might to move. But something was stopping him, holding him back. He looked down. There were arms around his waist, around his neck. Pulling on him, preventing him from moving, from speaking.

  He looked up. Lorik stood right in front of him now, his eyes bleeding onto his face. The bloody knife in his hand was only inches from Logan’s heart. Lorik lifted the blade, pushed it against Logan’s chest. The knife broke through his skin. Slowly, assuredly, Lorik plunged it deeper. The blade tore through Logan’s flesh with ease.

  ‘Logan!’

  Grainger was still alive! He had to save her. But how? Lorik was forcing the knife deeper and deeper, the smile still on his face. Logan felt the knife touching his heart, then piercing it.

  With one last burst of energy, he tried to break free, but he couldn’t. He wanted to save her. But it was too late now. He shut his eyes.

  ‘Logan! Wake up!’

  All of a sudden the arms that had been holding him back were gone. He found a burst of strength. At last he could move. He sprang into action.

  He opened his eyes …

  Confusion swept through him. He was upright, out of the bed. His body was clammy, his breathing heavy.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she said.

  Grainger. She was okay. The images had gone now, and his confusion was dissipating. His mind wasn’t completely with him yet, but he knew where he was. When he turned to look at her, he saw that she was upset. Then he remembered how he’d thrown the arms off him in his dream.

  ‘Oh, no. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you?’

  ‘Kind of. I was trying to wake you, but you shoved me out of the way. I’m fine, though. Are you?’

  ‘Yeah. It was just a bad dream.’

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You were screaming.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. But you were really screaming. Screaming my name.’

  Logan flinched. How embarrassing could you get? Yeah, way to go, macho man.

  He looked at the clock. It was almost one in the morning. The alarm hadn’t gone off. Maybe he hadn’t set it right. He lay back down on the bed, next to her.

  ‘Sorry for waking you,’ he said. ‘And for shoving you. You must think I’m insane.’

  ‘Not really. My dad used to get the nightmares as well. I know what it’s like. Well, I know what it’s like to see it, anyway.’

  ‘I’m just not sleeping well at the moment.’

  ‘I know. The stress of the job, right? I understand.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s more than that.’

  She put her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Talk to me about it,’ she said. ‘Let me help you.’

  He shrugged her off, got up from the bed.

  ‘I don’t need help,’ he snapped. ‘I’m fine.’

  She looked like she didn’t believe him. He didn’t believe him.

  ‘I’m going for a shower,’ he said. ‘I need to try to clear my head a bit.’

  He walked to the bathroom without waiting for a response.

  He undressed and got into the shower. As the hot water coursed over him it seemed to relax not only his body but his mind too. By the time he turned the water off, all remnants of the nightmare had been banished.

  After drying himself off he inspected his wounds in the mirror. Grainger had done a good job with the stitches. They were holding nicely and there was no sign of any infection. His hands were red raw on the knuckles, the skin completely gone, but the pain and the swelling had gone down some with the medicines he’d taken. He dressed and went back into the bedroom.

  Grainger was still sitting up on the bed.

  ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you,’ he said, taking a seat beside her. ‘I just don’t like talking about it.’

  ‘You don’t need to say anything more. I get it. You’re a man: you don’t do feelings.’

  He had to laugh at that, even though she’d sounded a little hurt.

  ‘Yeah. Something like that.’

  ‘But I really do know what it’s like,’ she said. ‘My dad had post-traumatic stress for five years. He used to get just like this.’

  ‘You talk about him a lot.’

  She looked a little put-out. ‘Of course I do. He brought me up all on his own. He’s the reason I am who I am.’

  ‘He brought you up alone?’

  ‘My mom died when I was a kid. Car accident. I don’t really remember much about her – I was very young.’

  ‘That must have been hard. For both of you. Is that what caused the stress?’

  ‘No. Well, obviously for a while it did. But it was the job that caused him the most trouble. He saw some pretty terrible things.’


  ‘What did your dad do? For a job, I mean.’

  ‘Take a guess,’ she said, looking up at him, a glint of pride in her eyes.

  ‘FBI.’

  ‘You got it.’ She smiled. ‘I joined the agency because of him. I always wanted to be just like him.’

  ‘How did he get rid of it?’ Logan asked. ‘The stress, the tremors, the nightmares.’

  ‘He never did,’ she said, bowing her head. ‘He died on the job.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. So that’s what you’ve got, is it? Post-traumatic stress?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  She fiddled with her hair, as though wanting to say more, but not sure whether she should.

  ‘I can tell this is tough for you,’ she said, ‘but it really does help to talk. No pressure. But if you ever want to, just try me.’

  ‘You’ll be the first to know.’

  And he really did mean that. There was something about her that comforted him. Perhaps it was that she seemed to understand what was happening to him. Perhaps it was because they’d both nearly died out in that field. Or perhaps it was just banal animal instinct, a physical attraction. But it felt like more than that.

  He’d talked endlessly with the psychologist about his problems but he’d only ever said what she wanted to hear, not what he was really feeling. It was just easier to keep the issues locked in than to talk about them. But perhaps Grainger was right – maybe it was time to start opening up about what was happening to him. Even if just a little bit.

  ‘I get nightmares all the time,’ Logan said. ‘More or less every night. I even get them when I’m awake sometimes. That’s when it freaks me out the most. The dreams used to be real. I mean, they were the retelling of real events. Bad things that happened to me. But now they’re different. More graphic. And more painful. The one I had just now, we were back in the field. Only this time I couldn’t save you. Couldn’t save either of us.’

  ‘Yeah, but you did save us,’ she said, shuffling closer to him. ‘That’s why we’re still here.’

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. It sent a tingle all the way down the left side of his body. He thought about turning to face her and kissing her back.

  But he waited too long and the moment passed.

  ‘Why don’t we get going?’ he suggested. ‘It’s later than we planned and we’re both awake now anyway.’

  Without hesitation, she said, ‘Yeah. Let’s do it.’

  Chapter 35

  ‘Have we got it yet?’ Reggie asked.

  They were huddled in Blakemore’s office. Habib, Selim’s technical whizz, was at the computer. Blakemore was sitting next to him. Selim was standing behind them, leaning against a large wooden display cabinet and nonchalantly combing his hair. Reggie was hanging around by the door, his anxiety and irritation rising by the minute.

  They’d had Modena for over three days now and Reggie thought he’d done well to stay relaxed during that period. It wasn’t easy for him to keep his emotions, his anger, bottled up. He supposed the fact he’d let off a lot of steam pummelling Modena had helped. But he’d also been prepared for this taking some time. Now that the end goal was in sight, though, it was hard to keep his feet on the ground, and he felt like he was about to snap.

  ‘It’s getting there. Just give me a few more minutes,’ Habib said.

  Habib had arrived just a few hours ago. He was part of Selim’s crew, along with Mustafa, who had been with them from the start, and two others who had been part of the attack on Modena’s motorcade but who’d since taken a back seat in proceedings.

  Reggie looked over at Selim. He seemed to be the only person in the room who was fully in control. Everyone else was edgy and nervous. Everything about Selim unsettled Reggie. It was like nothing at all moved him. Except hurting people.

  Reggie knew that Blakemore had been doing business with Selim for over three years. He didn’t get the impression that the two men were exactly friends, but then you don’t have to like someone’s personality to have a successful business relationship with them. Reggie had been involved in some of Blakemore’s previous work with Selim, though this job was the first time either he or Blakemore had met the man in person.

  He hoped it would be the last.

  He could fully understand why Selim had been brought in, though. They needed a good cover story, something to send the authorities off at a tangent, and the extremist angle was ideal. Selim had been more than happy to play the role, given the amount of money involved for such a seemingly small piece of work. He’d even thrown in four of his men with the job to provide some much-needed skills, such as the techie Habib. Having Selim’s men involved also gave more credence to the terrorist angle and Selim was more than happy to take the credit for Modena’s kidnapping – it was a win–win situation.

  But it hadn’t been easy keeping Selim under control. Blakemore had made it clear that it was down to Reggie to reign Selim in after what he’d done to Modena. Reggie knew that Blakemore didn’t have the balls to do that himself. And Reggie had been nervous at the prospect too. But ultimately, and to his surprise, Selim had obliged.

  Money talks, Reggie supposed. Selim was, after all, a businessman. He knew that if they didn’t get what they needed from Modena, he wouldn’t be getting paid. None of them would.

  ‘As soon as we get it, we should move out,’ Reggie said. ‘I haven’t been able to get hold of Lorik since last night. Something’s up. Wouldn’t surprise me if the police had him.’

  ‘I know, Reggie, you keep saying that,’ Blakemore crowed, agitated, not taking his gaze off the computer screen. ‘But all the equipment is here. We can’t leave when we’re this close – it could take us days to set up again.’

  Reggie huffed. The longer they sat here, the more likely it was that they would get caught out. Wasn’t Blakemore the one who had insisted on having the back-up plan to move Modena in the first place? And he was the one who had been the most worried when he’d heard about this John Burrows running amok.

  ‘Your man Lorik,’ Selim said, looking over at Reggie, ‘can he be trusted?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If he’s been caught, will he talk?’

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ Blakemore said. ‘We don’t know that he’s been caught. He could be off with a whore somewhere. Or he could be lying in a pool of his own blood.’

  ‘What!’ Reggie scoffed. ‘This is Lorik. I hardly think some lone woman would have felled him. You’d need a whole army to bring him down. He’s either off having some fun somewhere, raping that poor bitch probably, or the police have got him.’

  ‘That’s my point,’ Selim said. ‘If the police have him, can he be trusted? Should we be worried?’

  ‘He’s unbreakable,’ Reggie affirmed.

  ‘Nobody is unbreakable,’ Selim said, a stern look on his face. He stepped away from the cabinet, moving toward Reggie. ‘Believe me. I’m seen some tough cookies crumble.’

  ‘It’s the French national police we’re talking about here,’ Reggie retorted, nervousness clear in his voice. ‘I hardly think they’ve taken the Torture 101 course. Lorik will hold out.’

  Everyone else in the room had stopped to look in on the discussion. Reggie looked at Blakemore as if asking for assistance. None came.

  ‘And what if it’s not the police that have him?’ Selim questioned, coming closer, his tone defiant. He was setting a challenge for Reggie. ‘What if it’s the CIA?’

  ‘The CIA? Man, you’ve been watching too many movies,’ Reggie said with an uneasy laugh. ‘All I was saying was we should get out of here. No point in taking unnecessary risks.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Blakemore chimed in. ‘You think the CIA won’t be interested that the Attorney General has been kidnapped by Islamic extremists?’

  ‘Well, there’s your answer,’ Reggie said. ‘They’re out there looking for Islamic extremists. If the CIA were onto us, we’d know by now.’

  We�
�ve got at least one Islamic extremist in the room with us right now, Reggie thought, but decided not to mention that fact. Given the look in Selim’s eyes, he wasn’t sure that he’d appreciate it.

  ‘I don’t think they exactly advertise when they’re onto you,’ Selim said. He was now within a hair’s breadth of Reggie, who all of a sudden stood tall, puffing out his chest like a peacock displaying its feathers, as though his sheer size would get Selim to back off him.

  ‘Habib, are we getting any closer?’ Blakemore said, deflecting the attention away from a relieved Reggie. He really didn’t know what had happened to Lorik. What he did know was that he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

  ‘Just give me a few minutes!’ Habib snapped.

  This is hopeless, Reggie thought. Habib had been saying the same thing for over half an hour.

  ‘You’re looking a bit tense there,’ Selim mocked, as though he didn’t do tense. He reached out and squeezed Reggie’s shoulder for effect. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Reggie said, angrily shrugging Selim’s hand off and moving away from him, over toward the computer. ‘I just can’t understand why this is taking so long.’

  ‘Well, seeing as you’re not really doing anything of use here,’ Blakemore said, ‘why don’t you go and load up the vehicles so we’re ready to move out.’

  ‘Load up the vehicles with what?’ Reggie asked.

  ‘Well, for starters, with our prized asset.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll go and get Mustafa to help,’ Reggie grumbled. ‘Habib, how much longer do you need?’

  ‘Please! I’m almost there. Just give me a few minutes.’

  Reggie gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as hard as he could as he turned to head for the door. If he says that one more time, he thought, I’m going to ram that keyboard down his goddamn throat.

  Chapter 36

  Logan turned off the Fiat’s headlights when they were about a mile away from Blakemore’s farmhouse, wanting to remain as invisible as they could. It made the last part of the journey slow and awkward, particularly as there were no streetlights on this road. They arrived safe and sound nonetheless.